Counting The Days
by Kathemy
Summary: Stefan Salvatore and Caroline Forbes playing the waiting game.
1. Chapter 1

It is the ninety-third day after the wedding and Mystic Falls looks like it's been hit by a nuke, so Caroline is at her mom's cabin doing the dishes, because at least that's something she can manage. Doing the dishes and singing a song, looking out the window at the beautiful autumn sky, brown leaves in the trees and over the ground, approaching sunset.

 _"All I needed was the love you gave  
_

 _all I needed for another day_

 _and all I ever knew…"_

She stops, words sticking in her mouth.

 _Only you_ , she thinks.

Silly song. She'd actually never heard it while she was a kid, it was something she found in Stefan's record cabinet. Way back.

 _Back when we were friends._

She finishes up, puts the silverware in the drawers, and reaches for the bottle of wine on the kitchen table, pouring herself a small glass.

 _It's been ninety-three days since he told me he loved me._


	2. Chapter 2

She's at the Skull bar with her best friend. Well, the _other_ best friend, the one she's actually talking to and not being _complicated_ with. Bonnie is spinning a pencil in the air, casually holding her hand over it not to draw any attention. She does that sometimes when she's preoccupied. Yeah, she's fled too. Fled the Falls. Sure, the girl's got mojo and all that, but sometimes it helps to be a little realistic, and they really need a better plan.

One of them, sure, maybe.

 _Six…?_ Bonnie makes a grimace.

"So, hey, are you listening to me?!" Caroline looks supremely annoyed.

"Yeah, yeah. Just, you know, a lot to think about." Bonnie makes a weak smile.

"So, I don't know why I put myself in this silly situation!" Caroline exclaims. "I mean, why does he always have to be such a _perfect gentleman_ about things? Sure, I _did_ brush him off, and he _told_ me he'd give me time but…"

"You miss him."

"Yeah." Caroline sighs.

"And now you don't want to lose the upper hand, and you're too proud to make the first move."

Caroline sticks out her tongue at her. "Did you know what he said to me the last time? _'Nice shoes.'_ That was it! Two words! Then he was busy looking the other way the rest of the evening…"

"Yeah. You've told me. In fact, you've told me three times. That was… five weeks ago, right?"

Caroline looks truly miserable, nursing the martini in her hand, biting her lower lip.

"You know you're being a bit immature." Bonnie stares at her.

Caroline looks down at the table. "Yeah, I know. It's just the more days that go by, the harder it seems to be to come to a decision."

Bonnie lets out a deep breath. When she speaks again, her tone is different, more thoughtful.

"Caroline… Have you ever really thought about how old he is?"

"What? Why?"

"Well, it's just he looks like a teenager, and most of the time I guess he kinda acts like a teenager in all those superficial ways, but really… he _isn't._ " Bonnie looks at her pointedly.

"Yeah, of course. Of course, I know that! What, are you throwing me the judgey age-difference angle here?" Caroline frowns.

"No." Bonnie smiles. "It's just… For you, a year is a year. A year is a huge deal. But for him… all the years must have blurred together long ago. One year might be nothing. I doubt he has the same concept of time as we do."

Caroline presses her lips together.

"So, what you're saying…"

Bonnie fills in. "… is that if you're playing the waiting game with him, it might be really hard to win."


	3. Chapter 3

Stefan Salvatore is slowly going insane, which is ironic, because actually, he's the healthiest he's been in his entire life.

His latest confrontation with his own monster was a catharsis. He shut it off… _actually shut it off_ … and despite numerous temptations, he never really lost control. Now that he is back from the brink, for all the regrets, it is with a renewed energy and a greater sense of certainty. He is the master of himself for the first time since he was turned, and he knows how in no small part it is due to the influence of that blonde little girl - his "protegé" turned "master" - who is also the source of most of his current heartache.

Oh, how he's changed.

Before, even after he'd gone back to the blood bags, _the real juice_ , it was always with a hidden fear inside him. He'd ration himself, worry that one cup too much, one finger too much, and he might be headed down Ripperville.

The fear is gone.

He drinks when he wants, as much as he wants, and even if he's never actually fed from the vein since the latest disaster, he is positively sure that he would manage it.

He is feeling everything click into place, forgotten parts of his brain, starved for centuries, waking up to life. The world has colors, the people around him buzzing with an energy of life and sparks of thoughts and urges he's never been able to notice like this.

He's never been stronger.

So that's why he is where he is, walking down the road on the way home with his half-conscious brother, helping him stay upright, left hand flat on Damon's skin, sending calming thoughts, soothing images, anything non-sexual, non-violent.

"You know I hate it when you do that," Damon snarks, brushing his hand off his arm while almost toppling over himself. "Throw in a unicorn, why don't you."

"It's for your own good. You would've ripped the head off that waitress," Stefan responds tiredly.

"And there would have been a new one next week to fill her place! So what?"

The younger brother shakes his head, them making their way to the door, up the stairs, into Damon's room, the dark-haired vampire immediately crashing on the bed.

"Please, don't soil the sheets." Stefan makes for the door.

Damon flips his head, trying to focus his eyes, the world spinning, barely able to make out the image of his brother.

"Stefan… you're an idiot," he slurs.

"Oh yeah? What have I done now?" He turns around and raises his left eyebrow in response.

"It's not what you've done, it's what you're not doing.

Now, I know I'll have to wait an entire human lifetime to see my girlfriend again, and I admit I can be a little selfish, but I don't expect you to join me in celibacy out of pity.

Besides…" Damon wiggles his left index finger… "You know that's not something Caroline would like either. She might get… _bored_." The tone in his voice makes it clear what he is suggesting.

Stefan frowns. "Don't be silly. I'm just giving her… space. She needs some time. She wouldn't just… _forget_ me." Even as he says it, he can hear the slightly worried tone in his own voice.

"Sure… space. There's always something, isn't there? And then those days turns to weeks, and the weeks turn to months, and there's always some new obstacle… and before you know it, you're walking in on her on top of the latest iteration of Liam, fucking his brains out."

"Stop it."

"I'm just saying! She's a teenager… You know? Increased sex drive and all that? Plus Caroline's never been much of a prude. We both know that," Damon says with a smirk.

Stefan knows he shouldn't let his brother get to him. The truth, though… He misses her terribly. And… he _is_ worried. They haven't talked… not _really_ talked.. in months. Part of him hates Damon for bringing it up. Part of him is relieved that he's at least got _someone_ to talk to about it, even if that someone happens to be an unhinged and sadistic drunk.

 _Brothers_ , he thinks with a sigh. Can't live with him, can't live without him.

"So. What the hell would you have me do?"

Damon manages to raise himself half off the bed before collapsing again. He chuckles. _Seriously, how does a vampire get that wasted? Did he empty the entire bar cabinet?_

"Force it."


	4. Chapter 4

It's the Mystic Grill and it's been one hundred and three days since he said he loved her.

The place is actually decent if you manage to overlook the blood stains they haven't managed to get out of the floor and the compelled bartenders. The compelled crowd, for that matter. All brainwashed into docile sheep, staying around for the six and Stefan's mother to snack on as needed. Well, those who are left. The police station is deserted. Matt is operating out of Duke. Half the town's population ran when the major fighting broke out and they haven't returned.

 _Good for them._

She's not exactly sure why she's here. Stefan would say it is too risky, but really, the six rarely come around here, and neither they nor Lily have shown any particular interest in her. Plus, the booze is free. There's that.

She's in a terrible mood and she's on her fourth bourbon. He's like this itch that she just can't scratch and she hates him for it.

So, of course the door opens… and of course. It's him.

"Hey, Stefan. Came around to compliment me on my jacket?" She smiles, daggers in her eyes.

"… Not exactly." He looks down at his feet, a slight twitch in his face.

"How did you know where to find me?"

Stefan clears his throat. "Damon told me you were here."

"Oh, yes." Caroline smirks. "I've seen him do the Batman routine on top of the clocktower. Does he think that…"

"Listen, I hate to interrupt you, but I really need to say something." He looks up and meets her gaze. She can see the defiance and the exhaustion in his eyes, and somehow it makes her even more annoyed.

"Oh? Did you prepare a speech?"

"Sort of."

She waits.

Part of her is just so happy to see him. It's been nearly two months. Then there's the part that just wants to strangle him for being such an obnoxious, _infuriating, perfect_ guy who'd never have the common decency to act the alpha male he really is and just come and get her. And then there's the part of her that wants to throw herself at him and kiss him senseless… but by far, the biggest part is the one that is scared.

Still, she waits.

"Well…?"

"I saw you after Julian ripped my heart out. I was there."

Caroline gasps, the pain of that particular memory never truly having been healed. "W-why…" she stutters.

"I saw you sitting there on the pavement, crying with my corpse in your arms, and all I could feel was this sadness, and all I could think was how sorry I was, and that this might be it, and I'd never get to say another word to you. That there were so many things we'd never talked about and so many things we'd never gotten around to doing. And that was _before_ I'd figured out I was in love with you.

And you know, that might be you and me again some day, or you would be me, and I would be you, and if and when that day finally comes, I would at least like to say we had a go at it."

She looks at him, angry and annoyed how he would bring up something as painful as this when all she really wanted was a nice, stiff drink and she _so_ hasn't got the time to give in to this right now… torn between storming out, shoving him off and… _something_. Something else, something she's determined not to think about.

"Look around you, Caroline. This town is a bloody mess. How many wars have we fought? Any day could be the last for any one of us. We like to think that we're immortal, but both you and me know that is not true.

Do you think I want my only memory of a real kiss with you to be that one on the porch, where we were interrupted by the phone call that your mother was dying? The only memory of a night together being us as a couple of soulless psychopaths?

Listen, I really wish that we wouldn't have to…"

She silences him with her mouth on his. Forcing him back to the wall, hugging him hard, his face in her hands, tugging at his hair, molding herself into him. She's seeing stars. His scent is overwhelming, leather and sandalwood and _him, him, him,_ and she can't take it anymore. Can't take the wait or the loneliness, can't take the endless game.

She breathes in and pulls her head back a couple of inches, eyes firmly locked in his, a look of deadly seriousness on her face. The dartboard has fallen off its hook and two of the chairs are shattered. _So how the hell did that happen?_ He stares back at her, equally serious, with more conviction than she's ever seen.

"Fine." She breathes out, the look on her face slowly giving way to a faint, gentle smile.

"This time… you win."


End file.
